Semi-weekly south Kentuckian., 1887-01-11

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THE PEDDLER. ers, save that il
perhaps possessed more of an air OF
quiet neatness than any other in the
Sandy Fork neighborhood. The house
was one of those odd specimens OF
frontier architecture, fast fading
from the landscape, before the sweep
ing strides of better civilization.
Not. however. that it was mean in any
particular. Thirty years ago it was a
palace compared to the other rude log
huts in the vicinity. 1t was built OF
hcwn logs. and made what is called
double. II was weather-boapled with
out and plastered within. giving it an
air of neatness rs well as comfort. The
front yard was covered with a sweet,
tender coating Of early spring blue
grass, and the oaks and elms had begun
TO assume their summer garb. The
front gate was closed and standing by
it, leaning over and looking down the
Newton road, was woman. She was
beautiful, possessing real charms. She
was not young, not one Of those radiant
beauties who dazzle the eyes of silly
society swells, but possessed of a sweet,
matronly, home-like face, the beauty
only found in mothers.
Perhaps passer-by or casual OBJ
server would have discovered nothing
attractive. much less beautiful, in that
commonplace woman standing by the
gate gazing down the "big road with
cagerness in her face. But had he
paused he would have seen that, plain
MS those features were, they We're very
regular; that, although she had lines Of
care, they were almost oblitcrated by
lines Of pride; that her brown eyes, too
dark to be blue, and too light TO be
black, were filled with the eager Joy OF
mother expecting the return of a
child.
Mrs. Stuart was nearly forty years Of
age, and. had 1t not been for her
matronly appearance, might have
passed for several years younger. On
this mild May evening she stands by
the gate with all mothers fondness
and pride. awaiting the return of her
oldest son from college. He has grad
uated and is expected on the evening
train ut Newton, whittier his younger
brother has gone TO meet him with the
"spring wagon His father had gone
n week before 10 the city where Warren
was attending the medical college to
hear his sons graduating orrtion.
Ma Stuart was the model farmer
OF the Sandy Fork neighborhood. He
was not the wealthiest nor the most
nristocratic. perhaps, but then he was
what is called well-to-do in the world,
very quiet and pleasant, having but
few enemies and many warm friends.
Perhaps he was not as wealthy or inilu-
ential as either Taylor, Evans or
Arnold, whose farms were near or
adjoining his. but his word went as far
as either, and he never gave his note.
AS Newton was weSt Of the Stuart
farm, the rays Of the setting sun fell on
the woman's face, and she was COM
PEELED to shade her eyes with her clean
white apron,
"Oh, mother, are you looking for
them alrcady9p asked a bright, CHEEKY
voice from the house, and the next
moment there came bounding down
the gravel walk beautiful girl about
fifteen years of age, with large dark
eyes and hair. She pushed the gate
open and took look down the road,
shading her eyes with her hands.
"Is it time, mother Pn she asked, for
her mother had been too busy with her
thoughts and watching to answer her
first question.
eyes, dear, II is almost time" the
mother answered. her very tones denot-
ing kindness.
"How long have you been here,
motherp"
"Not long"
"Oh, mother, knew you would be
"a'cning ior warren iohs peiorc ne
came 10 you suppose nc mas grown
mucn
NO not since we saw n'n'
long,
ies, nes peen gone al winter.
Anu Anu now nc II pe uoocy99rl won I
ne
res nope So 'ne mo.her
answered, ,i, as II sne knew pia' every
u'plona p1es no, mus! mus .ls man man "i'ose
h'ino 10 Mfi''eii 'i'creiil " "uooVor.
"oh, | want to see brother Warren